


a well, a coin, and a wish

by frogchamp (ediblesunshine25)



Series: cryptid au snippets & scenes [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Despair, Gen, Hallucinogens, Immortal Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Loneliness, Time Traveler Wilbur Soot, Tree Spirit Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), a few potentially squicky things that i'll be addressing in the notes, beware extreme angst lies within, cryptid AU, i mean there is definitely a lot of despair in here, tha boy is stuck in tha well again, that's. that's an actual tag., um, very brief mention of vomiting, yes i just hand-typed those what about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ediblesunshine25/pseuds/frogchamp
Summary: “WILBUR! WILBUR, HELP ME!” his voice trembles and cracks.“WILBUR, PLEASE! WILBUR? WILBUR! ANYONE! FUCK!” wilbur was always there. why not now? why couldn't wilbur hear him? he needs wilbur.he fucking needs wilbur. this was his fault, wilbur was the one who told him about the well. wilbur needs to get him out. he needs wilbur’s dark clothes, his strange compass, his laugh, his rambles about the future and how much dream would love it there. he needs wilbur to come get him out of the fucking well. but he knows how much time is passing. if wilbur was going to come get him out of the well (dream couldn't bring himself to say “rescue” or “help”), he would’ve done so already. fuck.dream gets stuck in a well.
Series: cryptid au snippets & scenes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061309
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	a well, a coin, and a wish

**Author's Note:**

> all credit to [@heytherestilinski on tumblr](). literally all credit. dakota is the main creative mastermind, thank them. credit to [@schezopuyopuyo on tumblr](https://schezopuyopuyo.tumblr.com) for the hallucinogenic moss idea :]  
> potential squicks:  
> -mention of vomiting  
> -mention of hallucinogenic plants  
> -psychological deterioration?? ig that's what you'd call it?
> 
> i'm making this sound kinda frightening, but ur mental health is more important than reading this
> 
> anyway, enjoy sad immortal dream being stuck in a well!

dream is lonely and this well grants wishes. dream has seen people live and die in what seems like a matter of seconds, paling in comparison to his never-ending torturous existence. wilbur was the one who told him of the well, the magic well, the well settled in a valley and surrounded by creeping vines and small patches of wildflowers.

dream goes wandering, as he sometimes does, and he feels something tugging at him. not at his heart, something deeper. something he knows but doesn’t. it’s a novel but simultaneously almost familiar feeling. it guides him, whispers to him, and he’s tempted to doubt it but it promises him it will grant his wishes.

dream ends up at the well.

there is no bucket, but there is water. this is the source of that dark light inside him, the oath to give him everything he ever wanted.

and dream doesn’t exactly know what he wants.

well, he knows he wants wilbur to keep visiting him, and he knows he wants that tree (you know, the one he visits and sits close to on the ground to sense its roots when he feels helpless and hopeless) to live and he wants to have people to love, who love him, who he won’t leave, who won’t leave him.

so he fishes a coin from his pocket (he doesn’t know where it came from. maybe wilbur gave it to him, maybe it was from someone else. he can’t remember, things are blurry). he fishes a coin from his pocket and runs his thumb over the engraving. it’s in latin (so definitely wilbur’s), and it says “veritas et puritas.” truth and purity.

so he thinks carefully. his wish must be true and pure, the coin itself says so. he makes his wish.

dream flips the coin into the well, hears it clatter and then splash. he leans over the edge, trying to find the goldish glint in the dark water. he can’t see it.

he squints. he needs this wish to come true, he needs to know the well heard it and will grant it.

he leans over and braces his fingertips on the opposite side. the well is just too wide, and he gasps and pulls himself back right in time. the well must’ve heard his wish. it must’ve accepted the coin. his wish was full of truth and purity. he reassures himself of all of this and turns to leave, to go visit the tree again.

he feels his breath catch in his throat. did the well really accept his wish? how can he be sure? so he turns back, almost feeling like he’s betraying himself.

he squints again. he sees a glimmer in the water. he tilts forward. he feels the dark-light-primal-force pulling at him, encouraging him to go after the coin, to stay with it as the wish makes it come true.

it hasn’t steered him wrong so far.

so he jumps in.

  
  
  
  


dream never finds the coin.

-

he loses track of time within the first… well, he doesn't even know. he can barely make out the stars above him, sometimes he thinks he sees sirius, sometimes he can make out parts of boötes, but he's never sure. it's painful.

dream spends most of his time thinking. thinking about the tree, not too far from here, wishing he could sit at its feet and lie back and feel warmth on his eyelids. he thinks about his wish, and how he would never know.

the well water tastes sour. it tastes of dirt and sharp metal, but it's all he has to drink.

he screams. he screams so much.

first they're just calls, just “hello? can anyone hear me? HELLO? HELP!”

they echo off the walls and hearing only his voice drives him half mad.

“WILBUR! WILBUR, HELP ME!” his voice trembles and cracks.

“WILBUR, PLEASE! WILBUR? WILBUR! ANYONE! FUCK!” wilbur was always there. why not now? why couldn't wilbur hear him? he needs wilbur.

he fucking needs wilbur. this was his fault, wilbur was the one who told him about the well. wilbur needs to get him out. he needs wilbur’s unique clothing, his strange pocket watch, his laugh, his rambles about the future and how much dream would love it there. he needs wilbur to come get him out of the fucking well. but he knows how much time is passing. if wilbur was going to come get him out of the well (dream couldn't bring himself to say “rescue” or “help”), he would’ve done so already. fuck.

he feels tiny bits of his sanity, of his memories, chipping off like bits of the stone walls of the well when he tries to climb them. he knows he's losing himself, and he fears what will be left after that.

so he screams until he physically can't. he screams until it hurts him too much to continue. but he never stops trying to climb the walls of the well.

there are little notches in the stone bricks that he sticks his fingertips in to pull himself up bit by bit. he tries to jump, to find a little ledge, but it never works. he tries to run at it, but he can only step back once and its not enough. his fingers bleed and eventually his nails are ripped off by desperation. the sides of the well become smooth. dream loses hope.

  
  
  
  


he stares at the sky sometimes.

he yells for wilbur, for anyone, sometimes.

he misses the tree. he wants to be able to smell the earth near it, to smell the decomposing leaves, to feel its bark against his skin, to trace the roots with his fingers. he wants to sit in its little clearing and stare up at the sky and find shapes in the clouds.

he wants to go exploring with wilbur. dream misses wilbur so much.

  
  
  
  


it rains for nearly a week straight and the water rises to his waist. dream has to stand in the water. his legs ache and his bones stay chilled for a long time. the water never really evaporates.

his tunic is tattered and his skin always has a layer of water coating it.

dream stops screaming. he stops talking at all, and once when he tries to call for help again, he finds that his voice is weak and he has to clear his throat and whisper tens of times before he can even speak at a conversational volume.

  
  
  
  


he feels like he's losing himself even further.

  
  
  
  


if only the well had a bucket, he could have gotten out of the well the same day he jumped in. why did he fucking jump into a well? he knows his wish isn't going to come true. the coin is gone, disappeared.

  
  
  
  


dream thinks about truth and about purity. he thinks about the few friends he's made before seeing them die hurt too much and he stopped trying. he thinks about wilbur and about the tree (again). they're in his thoughts frequently.

he sleeps and dreams of looming shadows, of stars, come down from the sky to hunt him and everyone he's ever loved. he tries not to sleep after that, but hypnos steals him away regardless. the happy dreams hurt more than the nightmares, reminding him of the things he's lost.

  
  
  
  


dream is stuck in a well. what the fuck. he laughs but no sound comes out. it's ironic, an immortal being stuck in a well. being removed from mortality sounds nice at first (everything does), but not being able to die even when you’re in the most pain you’ve ever been in is definitely a fucking curse. he is _not_ in tyche’s favor, he knows that much.

there are little tiny raised spots on the floor, lighter than the stone around them. they grow in height bit by bit, and dream is sort of comforted by them. he talks to them in his head sometimes, and imagines how they feel: not being trapped here, but being created here. not knowing anything else. he gives them names, and since there are seven of them, he names them after the pleiades. they form a ring around the bottom of the well, and he goes from the one on his left (alcyone) all the way to the one on his right (taygete). maia and sterope are the tallest and electra is the smallest one.

  
  
  
  


dream thinks wilbur would like that he named the little formations after the seven sisters. he imagines wilbur’s face lighting up with his signature smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, but the rest of wilbur’s face fades. he sits in shock, processing. how could he have forgotten parts of wilbur’s face? wilbur, beside his mother, was perhaps the most important person dream had ever known. he stares at the side of the well, numb. 

he still has wilbur’s voice, though. dream remembers snippets from conversations (“i wish i could tell you about the future, but i don't want to mess it up,” “i like hydrangeas, they look like pom-poms,” “you don't know what pom-poms are? no, i'm not telling you, i don't accidentally want to explode the planet”) and from arguments (“i'm tired of seeing you give everything up just because you feel sorry for yourself,” “you're a sick bastard! why would you scare me like that, i thought i lost you!”). he finds himself missing wilbur more.

dream spends his days in his head, lost in thought.

it's peaceful on occasion. 

  
  
  
  


he stops trying to entertain himself. there's no use, dream knows he's going to be stuck down here for however long it takes for someone to find him. he hopes wilbur is that person.

he wonders if he will be stuck down here for the rest of his life (the rest of his existence). it's a terrifying thought, one that nearly wrenches the rest of his sanity from his hands.

he closes his eyes and doesn't open them again for a while.

the moss and fungi growing in the well are soft.

he hears voices and croaks out a soft “help.” it barely reaches his own ears. dream tries to open his eyes and fails. they are gummed shut and eventually he rubs at them enough to open them. spots dance circles across his field of vision and he can make out a purplish sky at the top of the well. he almost smiles before remembering that this is his prison. he will never be able to see the sky like that from outside of the well. dream thinks he's crying, but he wouldn't be able to tell anyway.

he coughs up green-tinged spit a few times after trying to eat the mushrooms and moss and small vines tumbling down from the top of the well. he vomits them up and hears elated laughter and wonders if the plants are making him hear things.

dream spends all his time in the land of lord hypnos, but morpheus is nowhere to be seen. he almost wishes for nightmares, to at least have a story play out in his brain.

his eyes are never open, his lips never move. it feels like he's trapping his own thoughts in his brain. dream thinks about death and decides (like he has hundreds of times before) that it would be a better alternative to being stuck in a well.

“dream, there you are!” it sounds like wilbur. does it? what does wilbur sound like?

dream loses wilbur bit by bit until he's just a name.

  
  
  
  


he sleeps.

  
  
  
  


he doesn't know how much time has passed.

  
  
  
  


this must be some form of punishment, he decides.

  
  
  
  


_please, lady tyche,_ he prays. _i'll be forever indebted to you. please._

  
  
  
  


didn't he make a wish? isn't that how he ended up here? yeah, it is. right?

  
  
  
  


he faintly recalls a meadow with a tree. the wind in the leaves.

  
  
  
  


he moves and is surprised at how much it hurts.

  
  
  
  


he is alone, always has been.

  
  
  
  


he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope i didn't make you cry too hard! i have a lot more cryptid au ideas, so stay tuned and maybe consider following me on [tumblr?](https://non-binnery.tumblr.com)


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